the blue cathedral
by slexenskee
Summary: Synchcronicity-verse Yamato/Kyuubi: This was the problem with life-and-death situations, Yamato thought, resigned. They had a way of cleaving open all the feelings you would have preferred to keep lost in ignorance. co-written with Poqo!


_co-written with poqo - and when I say co-written I really mean she wrote most of it haha. I sort of just clapped in the background._

 _xXx_

 _the blue cathedral_

 _He saved my life_ , Yamato thinks, wildly, stunned beyond belief. _Kyuubi saved my life._

And not in the way he usually did—in the peripheral sense, more to do with the mission than any legitimate concern for his continued existence. He jumped in front of the shot. He had no reason to. The mission would have been perfectly fine, it would have went off without a hitch regardless of whether he lived to see the end of it. And yet, that knife never had the chance to embed itself through his heart: he had a brief, endless moment to watch in horror as a blur leapt in front of him. Another moment to react in time to throw a killing strike of his own. But it was already too late.

He skids to a halt, kneeling over the prone form on the forest floor. A blonde boy of insignificant stature lies face down in a blanket of his own blood, spread around him like violent wings. He turns the boy over, breathing labored. Absent-mindedly he feels a frisson of concern when he realizes his hands are shaking. They shouldn't be shaking. He shouldn't be losing his composure; even if a subordinate has taken a possibly deadly hit.

The ANBU captain tears off the soiled mask. It lands next to the blonde's unmoving form, rolls until it is facing right-side up once more. The empty eyes seem to haunt him; the vacant mouth, parted, a prescient hand of bleeding red held over it.

One of his hands deftly slides through the boy's armor, looking for a pulse. It is there, but it is slow and wary, and growing lethargic under his touch.

He notices after a beat that Yugao is beside him, asking questions that float over him like they've risen with the tide. He is far submerged, and cannot hear her. He tears through the armor, inspecting the wound. The blade cut a long, deep gash over his chest; it must have glanced off of something and changed trajectory, otherwise it would have been far embedded into his sternum. The cut in and of itself is not concerning; but the wound has turned an ominous, clotted purple. Eminence spreads around the lapels of skin, spreading further as it winds down the veins, blackness visible, crawling over his chest.

"—poisoned," she mutters, and her smaller hands move to push open his shirt further. She dips two fingers into the wound, pulling them away. They gleam like regalia in the dim light.

"Hey, moron!" She barks, commanding Towa over. He should probably be doing this, be the one taking charge, but he finds himself incapable in this moment.

"Come here," she demands, pointing to his wound. "And tell me what this is."

Towa obliges, for once without his cursory remarks, as if he has sensed the enormity of the situation.

They all sense it; he knows inherently that the fox demon is not infallible, but that's an easy fact to forget in the face of his indomitable nature. He seems to exist on a level far above the rest, looking down upon them as if he plays with them only for his own amusement. This is not true, of course. But to that end, he doesn't know what the truth is. He doesn't know much of anything about the fox.

The veteran ANBU smears blood on his fingers, moving it to his mouth. He licks his lips. "Polonium," he intones, darkly.

Yamato looks up, waiting for an elaboration. He is by no means an expert on poisons—or at least, not at all like the man in front of him.

"He's in for a rough night," Towa sighs. "Assuming he's going to make it."

"It's deadly, then," Yamato's face is grim. This is not really much of a question.

Towa nods, silent.

He holds a hand to the blonde's forehead: searing hot.

"He should be dead by now though," Towa remarks, ever helpful. "Twenty times dead. So, that must count for something."

He hopes so.

xXx

They are far from any outposts of humanity, and so Yamato creates a squat hut between two large oaks, settles the boy inside, and hopes for the best. Koga and Towa are sent out to collect medicinal herbs; Yugao is fetching more water. He doesn't want to chance traveling with such a severely injured teammate, so these lodgings will have to do for now.

Kyuubi sleeps fitfully; he stirs restlessly every so often, but does not make a sound. He cannot imagine what sort of pain he feels right now. A deadly toxin like that is actually a bit of a mercy; it kills so quickly it doesn't have time to fester and destroy. For normal humans, anyway. But Kyuubi has always healed far faster than others, and must have some kind of elevated healing capacity. This normally does him a great deal of good: except for now, where it only seems to be prolonging his pain.

He whimpers then, so quiet it is almost lost in the silence, and Yamato is up and by his side immediately. He has atrocious bedside manner, everyone has told him so, but he attempts it anyway.

To his shock, the blonde's eyes are open. Towa had said he'd be in some sort of half-comatose state with most of his body shut down, able to feel the pain but unable to move. He seems lucid though, Naruto's beautiful blue eyes peering up at him through a fray of lashes.

It is wholly impossible to tell them apart now that their eye color has merged together. Occasionally when he is especially incensed or aggravated they will flash into fire, or a burned violet. He doesn't know what it means to see them clear and atmospheric. Is he looking at Naruto right now? It's hard to say.

The demon stares up at him for some time, silent.

After a long beat: "Your headband is on backwards."

He blinks. Then he blinks again. Then he checks to see that yes, it is.

He scowls. "Don't you have better things to worry about?"

Kyuubi makes an affirmative noise.

More silence.

Yamato sighs. "Just… get some rest, yeah? Water and medicine is on the way, but the best remedy is recuperation."

He thinks that at any other time the demon would have had a scathing remark for him. As it is, his eyes slide shut, and his mouth parts open to draw in long, slow breaths.

It occurs to him that he is, quite literally, fretting by his bedside. The thought leads him to the realization that he's far too invested in what happens to the fox. He's had subordinates in near death situations before, but he's always kept a level head through them, saw it all with a clerical eye. Why is it so different now? It feels like something dark has strangled his heart, constricting around his chest until it's hard to breathe.

He doesn't know what kind of relationship he holds with the demon, but he's aware it is a vastly different one than anyone else has with him. He… respects him, in a way. He might have an acerbic response for everything Yamato says, but he never questions or goes against his orders. There are even specific events he can recall where Kyuubi went out of his way for Yamato, where he wouldn't have for anyone else.

This was the problem with life-and-death situations, Yamato thought, resigned. They had a way of cleaving open all the feelings you would have preferred to keep lost in ignorance.

xXx

It is a very traumatic twenty-four hours.

Not even for Kyuubi, it seems. He's in and out of it for most of the time. He seems to be shielding Naruto from the worst of it, for it's only the fox he encounters. He's not sure if there's a health-related reason for that or if he's actually doing it because he doesn't want Naruto to feel the pain.

The fox was a strange enigma, that was for sure. He presented himself as cold and ruthless. For the most part this was true.

And yet; why did he go to great lengths for the comfort of his host? Why would he have saved Yamato time and again, sometimes to his own detriment?

The medicine isn't exactly working, but the poison runs its course, so Kyuubi gets better anyhow. But before this are agonizing hours cloaked in darkness, nothing but his shallow breathing in the dead, ringing silence. Yamato has not moved from his post by the bed; a solemn sentinel standing guard. It feels integral to do so. Kyuubi looks so… small, like that. Fragile. Helpless. It disturbs him as much as it elicits a deep-seated protectiveness. The fox is infallible. He has no weaknesses; neither in physical nor mental capacities. He is always in control of himself, even down to the timing of his breathing. More to the point—he only allows you to see what he wants you to see.

Naruto had mentioned offhand on occasion that the fox is not nearly as perfect as he likes to make himself out to be.

Yamato supposes Naruto would be the one to know. No one else has a connection with Kyuubi as deeply as the blonde does.

The captain blinks then. He is more stunned by his own reaction to this than he is disturbed by it. Is he feeling jealous? Of Naruto?

He shakes his head.

This is getting ridiculous.

The demon coughs into wakefulness. Almost immediately does Yamato reach over to hand him a waiting glass of water.

"You don't have to watch over me, you know." The fox points out, after he's downed the entire glass.

Yamato shrugs, feeling uncomfortable and rather embarrassed.

"I know." He says, slowly. Deliberately.

Kyuubi doesn't say anything for some time. He assumes the fox had just slipped back into unconsciousness, but he surprises him. "But thank you." Yamato blinks a few times, wondering if he imagined the quiet, whispered words. The faint smile on the demon's lips proves otherwise.

xXx

Sometime after midnight the fox develops a severe and sudden case of hypothermia. Before Towa darted back into the forest for more herbs, he affirmed that this was a normal reaction to the poison. Lovely. His team once again disperses as they struggle to deal with this new ailment; Yugao for kindle and if possible, to find a thermal blanket out of the belongings of the ninja they'd killed no twelve hours ago, Towa to the wilds in hunt of more herbal medicine, and Koga out to hopefully find radio reception somewhere outside of the dense forest. They were going to be days late, not only for their rendezvous point but also to arrive home. They'd need to send another team in to make up for it, unfortunately.

It was well worth it, though. Kakashi's words have never resounded more to him: never leave a comrade behind.

While everyone is gone, Yamato resigns himself to the fact that he's going to have to use his own body heat in the meanwhile.

The bed isn't all that comfortable, as it's not actually a bed. It's more of a bench than a bed, and more of a plank than a bench. At any rate, he slides in next to the boy, draping a jacket over them both.

He seizes up when the blonde presses closer, murmuring unintelligibly. He freezes and allows the demon to curl up against him, simply lying there as he adjusts. He's shivering ever so slightly, and Yamato hesitates for a moment before pulling the demon closer. Almost immediately does Kyuubi press closer, nosing into the warm space beneath his captain's neck, so close his breath comes out in warm, shallow puffs against his skin. If anything, this only makes Yamato hold him tighter.

This is how the team finds them. He glowers meanly at them all as they blink at the scene, stifling their amusement with half-hearted professionalism. Yugao sets about starting a fire, Towa turns around to start mulling the herbs into some kind of disgusting tea concoction, and Koga is thankfully still hopping about the forest for a signal. Meanwhile, Kyuubi remains fitted against him, in no condition to be removed. And if he lays a soothing hand against the boy's sweat-slicked brow, and runs his fingers through his hair, no one calls him out on it. He leans down to brush his lips against the boy's forehead when he makes a small noise of pain.

At this point, it is so late he tells Yugao to get some rest, and for Towa to take the first shift of guard duty. Yugao is out like a light; it's been a trying day for everyone, and that isn't even to remark upon the last few hours. He notices with no small amount of consternation that he is still petting the boy tucked against him, and reminds himself that Kyuubi is a very dangerous, very independent _demon_ and has no use or need for the comfort of a human. This does not stop him from doing it anyway.

xXx

He finds himself dozing in and out as well, mind awake enough to stay tuned to the forest outside but also drifting off with restless dreams. Kyuubi's onslaught of hypothermia ends, but it is impossible to detach the fox from his person, so after a few weak attempts he gives up. He tells himself its because he doesn't want to hurt the boy by prying him off.

At any rate, this is why he thought he'd imagined it, at first. Something warm just beneath his chin, and then it was gone, feeling strangely cold as the air returned in the absence of heat.

But then it happened again. And then a third time.

He blinked into wakefulness, staring at the far wall for a stupidly long amount of time before he realized that that was a tongue, and that Kyuubi was, indeed, licking him. He was too shocked to do much else but remain lying there, staring at the far wall, attempting to make sense of this. It was… not expected, to say the least. The idea of Kyuubi licking him—or, or doing anything even remotely like that—was strange.

Yamato paused.

But maybe it shouldn't have been.

He looks down at the boy in his arms. He is lying on his back, while Yamato is on his side. He has one arm thrown over the boy, and above them both is a thermal blanket that isn't really necessary any longer, and coupled with the fire, makes it rather stifling in here. Or maybe that's just him, flustered and feeling awkward.

But he shakes that off, as he notices that it's strange to see the fox sleeping like that. Naruto not so much, the boy sprawls out everywhere. But Kyuubi always sleeps curled up, or on rare occasions on his stomach. But for the most part, he stays in a tight ball for the duration of the night, much like—well, much like a fox. Because he is a fox. And foxes are animals. And they do strange things like licking you without warning. Humans don't lick each other. Not unless they're… well at any rate, it's still strange.

But it's probably a fox thing. This does not enlighten him at all. Perhaps it is some kind of fox behavior—but what does it mean?

He studies the boy again. His head is titled towards him as he leans up to nudge his nose closer to Yamato, and he is lying relaxed and unguarded against him. He never does that—never sleeps with his belly exposed. But he is now, as if he trusts Yamato to protect him. It all seems like… a form of affection, perhaps.

It might be easier to just ask him.

"Kyuubi," he starts, quietly.

The demon gives an uneager response, stopping the gesture. He feels cold with the loss.

"How are you feeling?"

Another noncommittal noise. "Alive." He grunts.

"Better?"

He nods. "It's ending soon."

Yamato doesn't know how he would be able to tell that, but doesn't question him on it. The demon is clearer far more lucid than he was before, and yet he doesn't appear to be concerned with the position they're in. Which is also very unlike him—Kyuubi has a very strictly set boundary of personal space, and is not pleased when it is breeched. He also despises when people touch him. Except Yamato is definitely in his personal space right now, and he is definitely touching him, and Kyuubi doesn't look displeased or disturbed by it. But this all just begs the question; what does it mean?

"You shouldn't have done that," he says, lowly. The fox turns to him curiously. "You had no reason to be there. You were on the other side of the field."

Those large blue eyes seem to be searching him deeply. They are such a lovely, sweet color. They remind him of Naruto; of the soft innocence of youth. Kyuubi is not soft, innocent, or young, and yet it would be impossible to tell from the way he looks right now.

Then he snorts, scoffing. That's more like it. "Had I not, you would have died in mere seconds. What meant instant death for you constituted as a few hours of mild discomfort for me. Why would I not have?"

He smiles fondly at that. "A matter of numbers, then." The fox is always so calculative about everything. It's almost endearing—which is alarming, to say the least. He shouldn't find the fox's convoluted schemes and machinations and cunning manipulations anything approaching endearing.

Kyuubi looks pensive. Pensive, and conflicted. "Not just numbers," he returns, quiet.

Yamato blinks curiously at that, wondering if Kyuubi will give him an explanation. But the demon has always been one for few words, so he supposes he'll simply have to attempt to elucidate whatever the hell that means. It almost seems like an admission of… fondness, for Yamato.

His grip on the boy tightens, almost involuntary. It speaks volumes that Kyuubi doesn't even bristle at the touch.

"What does it mean?" He searches the demon just as closely.

"What does what mean?" He replies, even as he leans in to lick another stripe just below his ear.

"That," he replies, flustered, again. "The licking thing. Why are you doing that?"

At this, the fox pulls away, looking curious and completely uncomprehending.

"Humans don't really go around licking each other," he explains, wryly, "it's not really a thing for us."

"Oh," Kyuubi replies, looking genuinely surprised.

There is a long moment where the demon doesn't say anything. He simply sits there, settled in his arms, looking thoughtful. He actually starts to feel rather uncomfortable as more time passes. Finally, it gets to the point it is almost unbearable.

"Well?" He prods, dry as a bone, "Would you like to enlighten me, or would you rather me guess?"

"I'm trying to think," is the almost petulant response, "Human and demon culture does not exactly translate very well."

And then, he surprises him even further. He leans in close again, once more burrowed against him, except instead of licking him this time, he places a small, almost intangible kiss upon his neck. Yamato makes a small noise in the back of his throat, fully unprepared for that. Somehow, he finds the gesture far more intimate than any kiss he's ever received on the lips.

"It's hard to explain," he says, when he pulls away. "But I suppose that would be the closest translation."

He doesn't know if he's capable of speech yet.

" _Oh_ ," he says, lamely. Something very strange and warm has curled in his stomach. He feels both pleased and totally out of his element, not even sure how to begin to respond to that—and all its implications. Instead he just blinks a lot, attempting to wrestle his brain into thinking again.

"Oh," he says again. There is a pause. "That's not really how we do it either."

Kyuubi refuses to meet his gaze, staring darkly up into the ceiling. "Well, how am I supposed to know how you do it?" He returns, cross and perhaps even embarrassed.

It's both adorable and surprising. Adorable, because while Kyuubi never remotely strikes him as something 'cute', his scowl attempts anger but ends up more like a petulant pout; surprising, because when does Kyuubi ever enough about the opinion of others to get embarrassed in the first place?

Yamato smiles softly, shaking his head. "I suppose you'd just have to learn it, I guess."

He turns his head at that, frown clearing into a look of confusion. It quickly returns. "And how would I—

But his captain cuts him off with a solid kiss to the mouth, effectively startling the demon into complacency. The blonde freezes up, and when he pulls away a moment there is even a hint of color on his cheeks. He blinks his big, beguiling eyes, looking shocked.

"…learn it." He finishes, very slowly.

Yamato smiles again. "Like that."

The team clamors into wakefulness around them, and Yamato pulls away, feeling strangely satisfied and cheery.

They're ready to leave soon thereafter, everyone eager to get home, eat food that isn't compacted into a ration bar, take showers and sleep in something that didn't come out of the forest floor. There's no privacy after that, and Yamato doesn't feel like trying his chances openly. Kyuubi is a very standoffish individual, and he doesn't think the fox would be very enthused if he tried to hold his hand or something. And to that end, Yamato wouldn't really want to. The idea of Kyuubi wanting to hold anyone's hand was utterly laughable.


End file.
